Nice going sand...why do i feel that Romanian poetry sounds better than English? also....i hope you can keep this up because all the poems i know are nursery rimes (IMG:style_emoticons/default/tongue.gif)

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You have been weighed, you have been measured, and you have been found wanting. In what world could you possibly beat me?

No longer mourn for me when I am deadThen you shall hear the surly sullen bellGive warning to the world that I am fledFrom this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:Nay, if you read this line, remember notThe hand that writ it; for I love you soThat I in your sweet thoughts would be forgotIf thinking on me then should make you woe.O, if, I say, you look upon this verseWhen I perhaps compounded am with clay,Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.But let your love even with my life decay,Lest the wise world should look into your moanAnd mock you with me after I am gone ...

Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,My sinful earth these rebel powers array,Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?Why so large cost, having so short a lease,Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,Eat up thy charge? Is this the body's end?Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,And let that pine to aggravate thy store;Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;Within be fed, without be rich no more:

So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,And death once dead, there's no more dying then.

So much wine and so much beer waiting for me ... oh, my dearguess it's time to say goodbyeyou may ask when, even why...I shall answer, or least try ... when I'll wake up from the graceof this mirrored hollow face ... (IMG:style_emoticons/default/laugh.gif)